


Open Secrets

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bad Parenting, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parenthood, a lot of this fic is up in the air ok, at first, baby! baby!!, none of the ships involve Galvatron though, potential surprise ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: Cyclonus finds a baby in Trypticon and can't figure out who made it! Can Galvatron and Scourge help him solve this mystery?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Open Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> *rides up on a skateboard with a slide whistle sound effect* hey guys this is a spur of the moment post and there is more to come and there's a vague plot but idk how fast the other chapters will come because it's sort of something i write to relax
> 
> also: write in Comic Sans i swear it makes a difference

Cyclonus got up that morning with no reason to believe the day would be any different. He opened the door to his private quarters and lifted his foot to step out, then froze. For many seconds he stayed like that as his brain struggled to process the visual input from his optics, but there was no mistaking it. Laying on the ground, clumsily wrapped in insulating foil, was a tiny sleeping robot. The concept of babies was known to Cyclonus, but he had never seen one and there was nobody around to provide an explanation.

Whatever that explanation could be, though, Cyclonus had to deal with it. He knelt and examined the baby more closely. His face was round, with pale and softly-featured grey protoflesh, and though his optics were shut there was no doubt they’d be a striking red. The top of his head was firmer and sharper, forming the vague outline of a helmet, but when Cyclonus gently pressed a digit into the blanket he felt pliable and squishy. He was vulnerable, and laying on the floor where anything and anyone could have happened to him.

_ How careless, _ Cyclonus thought, shaking his head.  _ Leaving such a thing here in the middle of the hall. I almost stepped on him! _ There was no sense in it. If the parent was going to be like this, they didn’t deserve to be a parent! Cyclonus awkwardly lifted the bundle into the crook of his elbow and stood. The baby was heavy and warm and settled in Cyclonus’s arm like he belonged there.

He didn’t, though, and it was important to find the creator quickly. If someone made one baby, however they managed it, they could probably make another. Plus, they needed a good scolding—a good scolding, followed by some reprimanding, and maybe a bit of “I’m disappointed in you,” dependent on the criminal’s identity.

“Let’s take you to Hook,” Cyclonus whispered, mindful not to wake the little one. He began walking down the hall. “You seem healthy to me, but he’s the only medic we have around here.” He turned the corner and almost crashed into somebody else. “Oh! Lord Galvatron!”

“Cyclonus,” he answered without turning around.

“This is fortunate,” Cyclonus said, smiling in spite of the situation. “Look what I have.”

Galvatron’s glance was quick and Cyclonus wasn’t sure he would have seen the baby at all. Nonetheless, he said, “That’s weird. Where’d he come from?”

“He was in the hall outside my door.”

“Where was he before that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m trying to find out. Did you happen to see anyone in the last few minutes? I don’t think he would have been laying there long.”

Galvatron fidgeted. “Uh, no. I haven’t seen anyone or anything, or heard anyone or anything. Nothing at all. I’ve just been standing here.”

Cyclonus tilted his head. “Why are you standing in this particular spot, my lord?”

Galvatron placed his hands akimbo. “It’s convenient.”

“Convenient?”

“For watching.”

Cyclonus gazed down the hall. There were a couple doors, but he knew they didn’t open to anything important. “Watching what?”

Galvatron whirled around. His expression was tight, like he was trying not to be angry. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Ah, yes,” Cyclonus said. “I’m going to pay Hook a visit. I’m hoping he can help reveal the parent’s identity.” He glanced down.

Galvatron reflexively followed Cyclonus’s gaze. His optics popped wide and his legs wheeled the rest of him backwards into a wall.

“Lord Galvatron! Are you all right?” Cyclonus took a step forward.

Galvatron continued walking backwards. “Keep him away from me!”

“Okay…?”

The baby started whimpering. His limbs wiggled and his head shook.

“I have to go,” Galvatron yelled, reaching around his back to open a door. He practically fell into the closet and shut himself inside.

Cyclonus wanted to stay and figure out what that was about, but felt it unwise since Galvatron didn’t seem to like babies. Besides, the longer he waited, the more likely it was for Hook to get busy. He carried on.

* * *

Hook stood by the repair bay table, looking at the baby with intense puzzlement. “I don’t get it,” he said.

Cyclonus perked up. He’d spaced out a little, waiting for Hook to get done with his scanning and examining and thinking. “What?”

“Well...looking at his code,” Hook started, directing his gaze downward, like he didn’t want to say what was next. “It’s familiar.”

“Oh? How so?”

Hook shrugged and sighed. “It’s Megatron’s code.”

“...Huh?”

“I don’t know what to say to you! His code is Megatron’s code! The only difference is he’s got some of that weird add-on stuff that you and Scourge and—” Hook seized up for a second, then continued again. “That you guys have.”

“You’re saying he’s like us?”

When Hook spoke again, his voice was a little softer. “You said Lord Galvatron said he hadn’t seen or heard anything?”

“Yes. I don’t know how he missed all of it. His quarters are quite close to mine.”

“That’s pretty weird, isn’t it?”

“Very. It makes me wonder how good this mech is at sneaking around.”

“You mean you don’t… Nobody comes to mind? No suspects yet?”

“Hmm. No.” Cyclonus picked up the baby. “Thank you, Hook. I will continue my investigation and let you know what I find.”

Hook hung his head, almost like he was disappointed. “Yeah. Let me know how it turns out.”

“Don’t feel too badly about it, Hook. This is a very odd situation, one with which you have zero experience. It’s to be expected that you couldn’t figure it out all on your own, but you’ve given me a lot of help.” Cyclonus hefted the baby. “I’m just glad to know he’s healthy.”

“Right. Of course, glad I could help. Good luck, Cyclonus.”

Cyclonus left the building and walked down the street. His next visit would be to Scourge—surely, between himself and his Sweeps, he noticed some suspicious behavior. Cyclonus heard his name and stopped, looking up to see Galvatron waving from the third story of a tower.

“How—how’d the examination go?” It was difficult to discern his expression, but he sounded earnest.

“He’s well, my lord! There is something very odd though.”

“Ah!? Wait, I’m coming down.” Galvatron jumped from the window and crashed into the ground. He got up and walked over, but didn’t approach closely. “What was odd?”

Cyclonus lifted the baby with both hands, as though presenting him. “He has Megatron’s code! Can you believe it? Someone’s out there constructing tiny Megatrons and forgetting them in random hallways.”

“Forgetting them…” Galvatron briefly shut his optics and shook his head. “Cyclonus, have you considered that—this person  _ chose _ you?”

“Why would they do that?”

“Perhaps they’ve left this baby in your care deliberately.”

“Absurd! They should have asked me face to face.”

“Maybe they didn’t want to do that.”

Cyclonus drew the baby to his chest again, humming thoughtfully. “So you think I’ve been given a tiny Megatron. What shall I do with him, my lord?”

“Why in the world are you asking me?”

“He is Megatron.” Cyclonus’s grip tightened on the bundle. “If...if you don’t want him around, for fear he may prove meddlesome, then I’ll…find someone else for him. I’ll even leave him with the Autobots.”

“No!” Galvatron’s exclamation was strong and desperate.

The baby growled and opened his optics to let Cyclonus know how deeply displeased he was with the conversation.

“I mean,” Galvatron said, “I mean, he might grow into a powerful warrior, just like the previous Me—me. The previous me.”

“But I’m needed to fight the Autobots.”

“We can do without you for a little while. It’s important we keep him close.”

Cyclonus sighed. “Yes, my liege. Oh well. Perhaps Scourge will help me.”

“Great idea! The two of you can take turns caring for him.”

“What about you, Lord Galvatron?”

“Absolutely not,” he answered flatly. “Go talk to Scourge now.”

“O-okay.” Cyclonus moved to take a step.

“Wait!” Galvatron leaned close and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone what Hook told you about his code.”

“What about Scourge?”

Galvatron grumbled to himself for a second. “I guess he has to know! Fine.”

“All right.” He was allowed to leave after that.

As he walked, his thoughts wandered. He noticed the looks he received from other Decepticons, but nobody seemed daring enough to approach him. What did they think? Who among them could claim responsibility? Why would they abandon someone so small and vulnerable and potentially powerful in the first place?

Megatron...was someone Cyclonus didn’t know personally at all. He was made from the body of another, yes, but couldn’t say he possessed any of that mech’s memories. If the baby truly was Megatron, reborn under unusual circumstances, it made sense why Galvatron acted so strangely around him. Perhaps he could sense the power contained within the little body, or maybe the sight of him brought forth unpleasant emotions.

What would the rest of the Decepticons think of a reborn Megatron? He thought of Swindle and Motormaster, threatening him in the middle of the street, made brazen and brave by their own exasperation with Galvatron. There was a chance it wouldn’t end well.

_ I will have to keep the peace, _ Cyclonus thought, squeezing the bundle against his chest. The baby gazed up at him quietly, unaware of the trouble he was causing and would continue to cause.

* * *

Scourge stood on a ledge overlooking the vast wasteland plains beyond Trypticon. Some of his Sweeps were out in the air, perhaps tracking something, and he appeared to be observing them. As Cyclonus approached from the side, he took notice and turned. “What in the pit is that?”

“Don’t use such crass language around him,” Cyclonus said, affronted. “This is a baby, constructed in secret by an unknown person or persons and programmed with the leftover remnants of the code of Megatron himself.”

“What…” Scourge scratched at his helm. “Step back a few hundred feet. What’s going on?”

Cyclonus recounted the last couple of hours. Scourge simply listened, occasionally stroking his beard thoughtfully or nodding or going “hm!”

“So what do you think? Have you noticed any suspicious behavior?”

Scourge’s optics narrowed. “You mean you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured it out?” Cyclonus scoffed. “Do you mean to tell me you have the answer?”

“Yeah. It’s obvious.” Scourge rolled his optics. “Galvatron!”

Cyclonus glanced around. After a second he made the connection. “Nonsense, Scourge! He told me himself that he didn’t see or hear anything.”

“It’s called lying,” Scourge moaned. “Lord Galvatron is fond of it!”

“But...but if he’s the parent…” Cyclonus’s processor sputtered into utter silence. He stared down at the baby.

“Who else could it be?”

“I guess you’re right.” Cyclonus’s shoulders slumped. “But that means he gave his baby to me. Why would he do that? Why would he lie?”

“We should ask him,” Scourge said.

“No! If he didn’t tell the truth before, what makes you think he will now?”

“Because he knows we know. Look.” Scourge gestured to the baby. “There’s got to be a reason why he doesn’t want to care for the thing himself. Doesn’t it cause you any concern?”

“Of course it does. It’s just that I doubt the usefulness of a direct confrontation. I was thinking we trick him into revealing the truth…”

“No. The last time you tricked him, you almost got us all killed.”

Cyclonus felt like Scourge had punched him in the spark. “Why would you remind me of that?”

“We  _ need _ to talk to him.”

“I didn’t mean for any of…”

“Come on!” Scourge grabbed Cyclonus by a wing and pulled him towards Trypticon.

“I suppose it makes sense.” Cyclonus wrenched free and strode beside him, struggling a little to keep up. The baby’s weight was starting to drag on him. “He was born within the last day, so Lord Galvatron must be in a great deal of inner turmoil. You were thinking of appealing to his emotions, weren’t you?”

“What? I just want to get it over with.”

“Oh.”

They entered the main tower of Trypticon. Galvatron must have been watching them from somewhere, because he came running in from a side door while they were deciding in which direction to begin looking for him. He stood at the edge of the room, one foot still in the hall, his cannon arm obscured by the wall, as if he was afraid to have nothing but open air between himself and the group.

“Lord Galvatron,” Cyclonus greeted, dipping his head slightly. “We need to talk, about him.”

“What’s going on?” Galvatron was doing his best not to sound invested. Cyclonus could hear the mix of anxiety and frustration in his voice now. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Cyclonus said. “We just know where he came from.”

It was clear that Galvatron knew what was coming and that he’d been backed into a metaphorical corner. He tensed as if preparing to fight or flee and his optics went round. In his emotive state, the only sound his voice box managed to produce was a high pitched squeal indicating curiosity.

“We know he’s yours, Lord Galvatron,” Cyclonus said. “You don’t have to lie anymore. We’ll help you in whatever ways we—oh my. Scourge, will you run after him? I shouldn’t…”

“Yeah, I got it,” Scourge muttered as he shot off down the hall after their errant leader. A few seconds later, he shrieked.

Cyclonus hurried to catch up with them. His brother could only keep Galvatron occupied for so long. He found them on the floor, Scourge face down, Galvatron with one knee between his wings and one hand forcing his head down.

“You don’t get to question my actions!” Galvatron snarled. “Only Galvatron can question Galvatron’s actions!”

“This...too far,” Scourge huffed. “Can’t keep...like that from people!”

“I’ll do whatever I want!” Pink light gathered at the mouth of Galvatron’s cannon.

Cyclonus gasped and rushed forward without knowing what he could do. In a moment of risky inspiration, he lifted the baby again and called out. That, however, wasn’t what drew Galvatron’s attention; it was when the baby squirmed, opened his optics, and beeped at his creator.

Galvatron looked over, and the fury in him snapped and broke into many pieces, allowing the terror underneath to be shown clearly. The light on his arm dissipated and he hopped off Scourge, splaying out on the floor, never taking his optics away. A deep and fracturing sorrow came over him even as the baby continued to chirp in apparent contentment.

Cyclonus took a step.

“Please,” Galvatron said. “Stop.”

Cyclonus did. Scourge rose and hobbled over to stand by his side. “My lord, you need to tell us what’s going on.”

Galvatron looked down. He scraped a digit along a seam on the floor and didn’t answer for some few moments. In that time, Cyclonus became aware of whispering voices and glanced over his shoulder to see several Decepticons standing at the end of the hall. They dispersed like cockroaches in the light of his gaze, but the damage was done; the entire city would know about the baby and his origin in a couple hours. Perhaps Galvatron realized that too, because he abruptly stood and motioned for them to follow him.

He led them back to his room, and nobody spoke the whole way. Cyclonus knew Galvatron wouldn’t begin until he felt comfortable. Once they were in the room, he locked the door, turned to face them, and stared for several moments with his fists clenched at his sides and his cannon arm slightly turned back.

Scourge glanced between the two of them and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, broke the silence. “Why don’t you tell us where he came from, Galvatron? That would be a good place to begin, I think.”

“I don’t know where he came from,” Galvatron said. “I don’t know why he’s here. He just is.”

“But how was he born?” Cyclonus asked.

Galvatron snarled, tensing up in preparation for something, but then he looked at the baby resting peacefully in Cyclonus’s grasp and loosened his stance. “He came out of me.”

“How?”

He bowed his head. “Does it matter?”

“All right...but why hide it? Why give him to me in the first place?” It seemed ridiculous to consider that Lord Galvatron might be frightened of a baby, but Cyclonus reminded himself that this baby bore a particular resemblance to Megatron. “If you fear him, we’ll always protect you—”

“ _ I _ don’t need protecting,” Galvatron snapped.

“But he does,” Cyclonus said, hefting the bundle.

“Of  _ course _ he does! That’s...that’s why…”

Scourge and Cyclonus exchanged looks. It was certainly a betrayal how much they both agreed with him; Galvatron was not fit to care for a child on his own, could barely care for himself without a meltdown, and his orders were final, anyway, so neither of them knew how much good an argument would do. While Scourge lifted his wings in the approximation of a shrug and turned away, however, Cyclonus couldn’t ignore the obvious contradiction before him.

Galvatron gave the baby away, but his yearning was like a magnetism that he had to fight lest it thrust him bodily at his child. At first, Cyclonus was confused, because why would he try to be rid of something that he so badly wanted? Galvatron’s actions were guided by desire and rage. He wouldn’t let a little thing like himself get in the way of...himself.

The only answer—and it was one that made Cyclonus’s spark tighten with sadness—was that Galvatron believed if the child was his, then he would cause something terrible to happen. The safest option was to give away the child and observe from a distance. He couldn’t have exactly what he wanted, so he had to get as near to it as possible. Cyclonus hummed at his realization.

“You fear for him,” Cyclonus said, stepping forward. As he expected, Galvatron tensed and turned sideways, looking ready to bolt. “You want us to protect him...from you.”

“Aren’t you much more suited to this? Stay away—I don’t want him near me! Cyclonus, obey me!”

“If you’ll forgive the presumption, I think you want him very near. You don’t want him to be in danger.” Cyclonus stopped when they were a couple feet apart. “If you’re that afraid of being a threat to him, make yourself safer.”

Galvatron glowered. “What are you suggesting?”

“Perhaps you could try removing your cannon.”

“How dare—” he shrilled, then stopped himself and started over in a quieter tone, “How dare you suggest the mighty Lord Galvatron make himself vulnerable in such a way! What if the Autobots show up? I must be able to protect myself.”

“As I have said, my lord, Scourge and I will protect you from anything that would do you harm.”

“Yeah,” Scourge said. “You could just stay in here, too.”

“Spend an hour or two with him a day,” Cyclonus said. “Over time, perhaps you will become more comfortable.”

Galvatron directed his scowl downwards and muttered to himself.

“Either way, please, let us help you,” Cyclonus said. “I can tell that you are in—”

“Fine!” With a dramatic, heavy sigh, Galvatron tilted his arm to see his cannon. He lifted his left arm and clamped his digits around the orange metal, detaching it with little effort. The look he gave it was one of faint amazement, as though he didn’t expect the task to be so easy, and he set it carefully on the floor like he was handling something volatile.

Then he lifted his arms and his gaze. His limbs quivered and his glare was intense; he didn’t seem angry, but rather like he was expending immense effort on something. When Cyclonus lowered the baby into his arms he tensed, every servomechanism in his body seizing at the sensation of weight and life now resting in his grasp.

Galvatron looked nearly helpless, glancing around everywhere as if checking for enemies. Over the course of a few minutes he calmed down, but he didn’t move from his spot, standing rooted to the floor. It was a little ridiculous, because Cyclonus realized while watching them that he  _ was _ afraid of a baby. He was more afraid of this baby than anything else he’d faced before.

“You’re doing well,” Scourge said.

Cyclonus nodded. “Yes.”

The baby opened his optics and Galvatron relaxed at the sight of him. He wasn’t crying or hurt or exploded, so it must be okay for them to stand there, to touch, to be together.

“I don’t know anything about this.” It was rare to hear such frank admissions from their leader, especially when they were true.

“We don’t either,” Cyclonus replied. “We’ll figure it out.”

“There’s a book on everything,” Scourge said. “Surely there’s information out there. You can’t be the only one who’s ever did this.”

“This is a unique situation anyway. He’s…” Galvatron paused. “He’s Megatron.”

“Yes, that is what Hook said,” Cyclonus said.

“A clone?” Scourge suggested.

“That sounds right,” Galvatron said quickly.

“We can’t call him Megatron.” Cyclonus shook his head. “Imagine what that would do to the others.”

Scourge shuddered. “There’d be no stopping them. I don’t even know what they’d do, I just know we couldn’t stop them.”

“They’d  _ riot _ ,” Galvatron said with a snort.

The baby beeped.

“You like that, do you?” He lifted the baby so they were eye level. “You want to be Riot?”

Cyclonus smiled. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“So be it.” Galvatron squeezed Riot against his chest.

Everyone was quiet.

Scourge coughed. “Uh...how  _ do _ you take care of a Cybertronian baby anyway?”

Galvatron shrugged.

“I think there’s some work to be done,” Cyclonus said. “Scourge, get to it.”

“What? Why me?”

“You’re the one who said that about books.” Cyclonus nodded towards Galvatron. “He has Riot, and I’m going to stay with them.”

“I—well—” Scourge threw up his arms and huffed, then marched out of the room. “Leave the hard stuff for me, as always,” he was heard shouting down the hall.

Galvatron scarcely seemed to notice their exchange, focused instead on staring at Riot. The moment was as close to peaceful as was possible for Decepticons; it wasn’t often that things turned out all right for them, so Cyclonus was relieved that this ended well. Riot had a long life ahead of him and there would be plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong, but now was good, and now was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading i hope you like Riot as much as i do


End file.
